The Song
by adromir
Summary: Sam doesn't sing. Or does he?


**Hi, there! Yes, I've returned with another Flashpoint fic. I'm so grateful for the wonderful receptions given onto 'The Advice' and 'The Promise'. Thank you so much. Now here's another story about Sam.**

**Happy reading.**

**SUMMARY : Sam doesn't sing. Or does he? **

* * *

><p>"Encore! Encore!"<p>

Team One applauded as Ed left the karaoke set after finishing his rendition of 'When A Man Loves A Woman'. His wife, though, was not so quick to agree.

"Oh, please have mercy. No more. My ears are bleeding as it is," she playfully moaned.

Laughing, the team leader leaned over to give Sophie a smacking kiss on the cheek. "But you always say you love to hear me sing, honey."

Batting her eyelashes, she shot back, "Only when I have my ear-plugs in, sweetheart."

That caused a round of raucous laughter from the rest, which quickly turned to mock groans and catcalls when the couple started to smooch like teenagers.

"Go get a room!"

"God, my eyes! I'm blind…"

Amid the ruckus, Ed released his wife and grinned widely back at them. "You're all jealous."

It was a nice summer evening and the entire team was attending the much awaited annual barbecue hosted by Wordy and his wife. Marina had come as the Sarge's date, obviously. Winnie and Natalie were also present to accompany Raf and Spike respectively, though the girls denied calling themselves as dates, much to the two men's chagrin.

Taking scattered seats on the Wordsworth's backyard, they took bites and sipped beer and reminisced the old times, mostly about the funny bits when Wordy had been part of the team. Now the up and coming star of 'Guns and Gangs' Division, Officer Wordy had never lost his edge. He was still a great cook and an accommodating host. And this year he had added an extra feature to the happy reunion; a karaoke set.

"I hate karaoke!" Spike had whined when he first saw the thing already assembled near the porch steps. "Karaoke makes me stupid."

That was proven as quite true when the team's computer wizard kept crooning one number after another. _And_ another. Though a bit pitchy at certain parts, his voice was pleasant to hear. The only problem was he had refused to stop singing even after his _fifth_ song, so Raf and Wordy had ganged up on him to rescue the poor abused mic.

After three hours into the party, it had turned dark and everyone had had their turns at the 'stage'.

Everyone except for Sam.

Behind his easy smiles and snickers, the ex-military guy was actually hiding a sliver of uneasiness, quietly dreading the inevitable. He knew he was expected to pick up the mic and sing something like everybody else. But he just couldn't do it. There was no way he could do it.

The moment he feared most finally arrived when Ed called out to him, "Okay, Samo. Your turn now."

"We've saved the worst for last," Spike chimed in, earning a high-five from Raf.

Sam grinned good-naturedly back, but he shook his head. "No, I…I don't sing."

"Aw, come on, Sam. Excluding Raf and Jules…oh, okay…Ed too, we all can't sing to save our lives," the Sarge urged, "Just belt it out and let us hear it, one time only."

"That's right, no excuses," Wordy said, "As the host, I state the rules; everyone must participate."

Jules was gazing at Sam in wonder. "I just realized I've never heard you sing before."

He shrugged. "There's a good reason for that. I don't want to impair your hearing."

"Too late now. Our hearings are already impaired by the Boss' awful rendition of 'Killing Me Softly with His Song'," Ed laughed. "Talk about being literal."

They roared with laughter as Parker nodded sheepishly. "That was indeed my intention. Looks like I did a bad job of it because you're all still alive. So, Sam, need your help here. Sing us a 'killer' song, why don't you?"

Sam squirmed as he became the center of attention. Everyone was looking at him, waiting in anticipation for him to claim his turn. When he slowly rose, they all clapped and cheered. But their merriment then turned to confusion when instead of going for the mic, he bolted the other way and said, "I need to use the bathroom."

As the rest of them stared with surprise, the ever courageous Constable Samuel Braddock dashed up the steps and fled into the Wordsworth's house as if being hunted by a pack of hounds.

"What the—" Ed blinked in astonishment. "Did that just happen?"

"Well, we all saw it. Just having hard times believing it," said Parker, bemused.

"_Wow_." Spike was shaking his head. "There _is_ something Samtastic actually afraid of."

That caused another round of mirth. Only one of them was not laughing as much. Sam's sister, Natalie, bit her lower lip in contemplation before she hesitantly voiced out, "Umm…guys? May I say something?"

They all quieted down and looked at her. "Yeah, sure. What is it, Nat?"

Taking a deep breath, she then replied, "There's something you have to know about Sam, about why he is not so keen to sing."

"Don't tell me he has stage fright," said Raf, half joking.

Natalie emitted a weak smile at that. "Look, I probably shouldn't tell you this. I even found it out from him by chance, just a slip of his tongue during one of his unguarded moments. Sam doesn't sing not because he can't. Trust me, guys. He _can_ sing. It's just that…he hasn't been singing for years now, since he lost Matt."

The rest of the team exchanged knowing looks. Somehow they were not surprised to hear this had something to do with Matt Walsh, Sam's best friend who was killed in Kandahar. The friend that Sam himself had shot dead from two kilometers away.

Natalie continued, "Sam told me that on the night before Matt died, they sat outside at the camp's picnic table, staring at the stars. Matt brought his guitar along, and they sang and howled to the moon like lunatics. That was the very last thing they did together. I've never heard my brother's lovely singing voice since."

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><p>Sam was bending over the sink, splashing cold water onto his face. As he straightened his spine, he looked at himself in the mirror. His face was a tad pale, his blues eyes slightly red around the edges. He didn't look as if he was enjoying a good reunion barbeque. He resembled more like someone who had demons chasing after him.<p>

"Sam, you're such a wuss," he muttered angrily to himself. Turning off the tap, he grabbed a hand towel and briskly wiped his face dry.

"Just get on with it," again he grumbled before he pulled open the bathroom door and rushed out, almost running over a little girl who stood waiting there.

"Hi, Uncle Sammy!" Allie, the Wordsworth's youngest daughter, cheerfully greeted him.

Somehow he managed to smile in return. "Hey, baby girl. What're you doing here? I thought you were watching a Disney movie with your sisters out front?"

"I've seen the movie _ten_ times already." She pouted. "I'm tired. I wanna go to bed."

Sam hesitated, "Want me to get your Mommy or Daddy to tuck you in?"

Allie shook her head and grabbed for his hand. "They're busy. I want _you_ to tuck me in, Uncle Sammy!"

"Whoa—" He started to protest, but she wasn't even listening. Instead she happily chattered on like a magpie, dragging him along with her towards her bedroom. Once there, Sam looked around him in wonder. It was definitely a little girl's sanctuary, all pink and frilly. He felt like a big clumsy bull in a store full of fragile china.

Climbing into bed, Allie sat upright with her legs crossed and stared back at him. "So."

Sam blinked. "So…uh…what?"

Rolling her eyes heavenward, she exclaimed, "Do something!"

He blinked again, not really knowing what he should do. Okay, he had had the experience of caring after his two younger sisters when they were Allie's age, but that was eons ago. He had definitely lost his touch in that area.

"You want me to tell you a bedtime story? I'm afraid I don't know much about fairies tales and such," Sam admitted with a helpless shrug as he perched himself on the bed, facing her.

The little girl sighed. "I have audio books for that, thank you very much. No, Uncle Sammy. I need you to sing me lullabies."

_Aw, crap. This is really not my night._

Sweating now, he replied, "I know nothing about lullabies either."

"Really?" Allie's eyes went wide with shock. "Didn't your Dad ever sing you lullabies when you were a kid like me?"

Sam had to grin inwardly. _If you could count the national anthem as lullaby so, yeah, he did._

"My Dad is not really a lullaby-singing type," he replied. "I was an army brat, and a wild one at that. I'm more used to him barking me orders."

"That must not have been fun for you."

"It had its moments," Sam said. "Look, let's call in the 'Idol' wannabes out there. They should know lots of lullabies. What do you say?"

She shook her head. "I've heard them all sing. They're okay, though some got a little carried away. And Uncle Spike just can hardly stop, can he?"

Sam broke out laughing. "Well, Uncle Spike is…um…special that way."

"I haven't heard _you_ sing."

That threw him off his guard entirely, his laughter subsiding. He quickly looked the other way lest she notice his discomposure. "I don't sing for a long time now, Allie."

To Sam's surprise, she reached across to gently place her hand on top of his. "Then you need to get back on that horse. You need to keep going."

He gazed at her in wonder. "For a six year old, you are _so _verysmart, you know that?"

"Of course, I am." She giggled. "So, does that mean you will sing for me?"

Sam wanted to say no. He really, _really_ wanted to say no. But Allie's big brown eyes were staring at him like he was the biggest rock star that ever graced her bedroom. He had not the heart to disappoint this sweet little girl. "Okay, I will," he reluctantly said. "I really don't know any lullabies, though."

"That's alright. Just sing your favorite song. Come on, let's hear it."

"I don't think your Mommy and Daddy will approve of my choice of song."

Grinning secretively, she leaned forward and whispered, "Then let's not tell them."

Before he could respond to that, she jumped off the bed and ran to a corner. She returned, carrying over a classic guitar in her arms. Sam quickly came to her rescue when she nearly dropped the thing on her foot.

Plopping herself back in bed, Allie said, "Can you play, Uncle Sammy?"

"Sure, but—"

"Then play. Sing. Do it now."

He sighed. "You've been hanging around Ed too much, I think."

Allie sat waiting patiently as Sam tugged and tweaked experimentally at the cords. It was an old guitar, cared so lovingly by Allie's Mom, Shelly, to whom it belonged to. Like him, Shelly was also left-handed, and so the instrument fitted him perfectly.

"I'm waiting."

He grinned at the girl, amused to realize that she could tell he was deliberately dallying. He started strumming the strings, but then his mind went blank. He had no idea what to sing.

"Sing a song that means a lot to you, Uncle Sammy. It will mean a lot to me too," said the young female version of Dr. Phil.

And so Sam began to do just that, singing the very last song he had shared with Matt on the night before he died…

...

_He said, "Son, have you seen the world?_

_Well, what would you say if I said that you could?_

_Just carry this gun, you'll even get paid"_

_I said, "That sounds pretty good"_

_Black leather boots, spit shined so bright_

_They cut off my hair but it looks alright_

_We marched and we sang_

_We all became friends as we learned how to fight_

_A hero of war, yeah that's what I'll be_

_And when I come home they'll be so proud of me_

_I'll carry this flag to the grave if I must_

_'Cause it's flag that I love and a flag that I trust_

_I kicked in the door, I yelled my commands_

_The children they cried but I got my man_

_We took him away, a bag over his face_

_From his family and his friends_

_A hero of war, yeah that's what I'll be_

_And when I come home they'll be so proud of me_

_I'll carry this flag to the grave if I must_

_'Cause it's a flag that I love and a flag that I trust_

_She walked through bullets and haze_

_I asked her to stop, I begged her to stay_

_But she pressed on_

_So I lifted my gun and I fired away_

_And the shells jumped through the smoke_

_And into the sand that the blood now had soaked_

_She collapsed with a flag in her hand_

_A flag white as snow_

_A hero of war is that what they see_

_Just medals and scars, so damn proud of me_

_And I brought home that flag, now it gathers dust_

_But it's a flag that I love, it's the only flag I trust_

_He said, "Son, have you seen the world?_

_Well, what would you say if I said that you could…_

_..._

Sam was so into the song he didn't realize that he was weeping, until Allie reached over to wipe the tears off his face before embracing him. She didn't say a word. She just laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Within moments, she was sound asleep.

Cradling the precious bundle of warmth against his chest, Sam cupped the back of the girl's head and gently rocked. This was the real reason he had left the field. Not just because of the tragic ending of his friend, Matt. It had been more than that.

After serving two tours in Afghanistan, Sam had simply grown tired of war and combat zones, had grown sick of all the unnecessary bloodshed. He had entered the military as a young idealist, he had left a changed man. He had needed a way out to redeem himself, to atone for everything he had seen and done. Instead of taking lives, he wanted to save them. Most of all, he wanted to protect those who were helpless, like the innocent little girl lying asleep in his arms. No harm would come to her, he vowed. Not as long as he remained an SRU officer.

"Sam?"

Wordy's soft voice pulled him out of his reverie. His smile kind, Allie's father patted his shoulder. "Thanks, Sam. Here, let me take her."

Sam grudgingly released the girl to him. Kissing her daughter's cheek, Wordy then laid her down and tucked her in. Allie didn't even stir, already deep in her slumber.

"She is special," Sam quietly remarked, gazing at Allie's angelic face.

"Yep, that she is. That's my daughter," Wordy proudly agreed. And then he asked, "You're alright?"

After a slight hesitation, Sam slowly smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I believe I am."

"Allie has her ways with people." Wordy grinned back. "I'm glad she makes you feel better."

"So am I." Before leaving the room, Sam leaned down and kissed Allie on the forehead. "Thank you, baby girl. For rescuing me."

To his absolute surprise, everyone was waiting for him outside in the hallway. He groaned involuntarily. "How long have you guys been standing there?"

"Long enough," Ed responded with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Didn't know you can sing, Samo."

Sam emitted a sheepish smile. "Okay, the secret is out. So sue me."

Chuckling, the team leader hooked an arm around the younger man's neck. "Any more secrets you need to tell us?"

"He is terribly scared of snakes," Natalie helpfully supplied. She came over and gave Sam a hug. "Nice to hear you singing again, big brother."

"Maybe you can sing at one of my gigs," Raf suggested.

"Hey, not fair!" Spike protested. "What about me? I can sing too!"

"Spike, take my advice," said the Sergeant, as he gave Sam's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Stick to your computers, buddy. That's where you're most dangerous."

"And most harmless to everyone's eardrums," added Winnie, much to the others' great mirth. Amidst their laughter, Sam silently sought Jules' loving gaze. She was smiling, yet her eyes were damp with moisture. Quietly, he went to her, cupped her cheeks and kissed her long and deep.

"Okay, guys. Show's over," Wordy was telling the others in the background. "You all made the mess, you all have to clean up. It's the host's rules. Come on, let's go. Out."

When Sam and Jules finally came up for air, they found themselves alone. They softly laughed.

"Sing me to sleep tonight?" she requested, running her fingers over his lips.

"Tonight and every other night," he solemnly promised.

Afterwards, as they joined the others in the backyard, Sam paused to look up at the stars. One star in particular shone brighter than the rest.

He found himself smiling, his heart uplifted.

"Rest in peace, Matt. You will never be forgotten."

**THE END**

**Song lyrics credit : 'Hero of War' by Rise Against**

**p/s : Look this up. It's a very moving song.**


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